Today is the day before the day. Nothing like Christmas or birthday. I’m going to see a neurologist to get his opinion and perhaps initiate the exams that will lead to an answer as to whether or not this is serious. Well, it’s already serious as it is, since nobody can help me manage neither nerve-pains nor allergies nor Coeliac disease. So do I really wish for more?

To prefer serious diagnosis is not what’s usual to most people.

I know. Yet the alternative for me is having to go through a even longer period of time with even more uncertainty and the potentially worse diagnosis. Something has definitely changed and my abilities is decaying. Like a Catch22. – also when it comes to being right or not. I like to be right – period!

What’s going on is that I’ve got some troubles with my physical body compared to what I’ve had after I got the nerve injury, and physical training only seems to make the decaying worse. So now I sit! Doing my best to ‘love myself and my body’! *snort*

Looking back the troubles has gradually been creeping up upon me. Now they’ve reached a level where they’re preventing me to do things I’d taught myself to appreciate after loosing a regular job (and former life), and so I’ve finally had to take action and start out with having a specialist consider what causes the troubles. Having a fair amount of knowledge and experience with health-issues I’ve considered what my symptoms could come from and prepared myself mentally. It’s harder to stay objective when it’s myself on the line though. Do I want to be right this time?

Why do I prefer one diagnosis over another?

Because first of all what I’m thinking it is will be manageable. There’ll be medications to keep it under control – maybe even make things better – and help in many other ways to be had. I can go on with life even if it’s in another ‘gear’.

Second it’ll be “something”! Something exact and not the start of a guessing game with the potential outcome of me being marked as a hypochondriac. I’d hate that!!! Not whether I might a hypochondriac, just that I’d hate to have it officially verified.

Thirdly: If it’s not what I think it is and I’m not a hypochondriac, then a long time of poking and searching, testing and waiting will be the next! That’ll be intolerable.

So I’m nervous now! Afraid it is and scared it isn’t!

My stomach is tied in a knot becoming gradually tighter as the day passes. Free mediation online is pissing me off. Can’t find anything interesting on the telly. Time’s passing too slow and too fast.

Wish it was a sunny Friday, that summer wasn’t over already and that I was somebody else, somewhere else … and rich!

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